The Problem with Dreaming
by Gayani
Summary: Set early season 7. Deb dreams of things she shouldn't. But the dreams just won't stop. Rated M for Debster smut.


A/N: For once this is (mainly) PWP. And not sad As always, thanks for reading!

* * *

Debra really needs to stop having sex dreams about her fucking brother. The type of dreams where she wakes up turned on, wetness pooling between her thighs. The type of dreams where she has trouble looking him in the eye the next day.

And she really needs to stop having fucking sex dreams about Dexter when she knows who he really is. The one from the night before still lingers in her mind, her on that cold table, the plastic holding her down. Rudy is there, egging them on. But she's too busy focusing on Dexter's biceps as he pulls the tape off her mouth and kisses her. And then the plastic is cut away, she's totally exposed, she's free to run. But she stays rooted there, watches Dexter climb onto the table with her. Watches as he peels off his clothes, touches her bare body.

She tries to convince herself that it's disturbing, but the mere memory is bringing back that delicious sensation between her legs, hardening her nipples despite her blazer.

Deb stares down at her papers on her desk, tries to push the feelings, the images aside. Her head whips up at the knock on her door and her already pink cheeks burn at the sight of Dexter with Angel.

"Yes?" But Debra's voice is husky. She notices Dexter tilt his head inquisitively and clears her throat.

Angel is saying something, placing a file in front of her, and though she looks at him she can still feel Dexter's scorching gaze on her. Dexter lingers after Angel has left and Deb attempts to busy herself to avoid the curious look on his face.

When he finally leaves her office she takes a deep breath, presses her palms against her fiery cheeks. Just one good, dreamless night of sleep will fix this, she's sure.

* * *

His fingertips are skimming up her leg, over her stomach, between her breasts. The touch is so feather light that it tickles. But Deb doesn't feel like laughing. She's sighing, half moaning, trembling in sheer delight.

Her own hands hold on to him, try to pull him closer. But she can feel his muscles flex as he works against her grip.

She moans as he brings his head down to her breast, sucks the nipple into his mouth and glides his tongue around it. When he bites down gently his name is a staccato "Dex!"

Her hips buck up as he moves up from her breast, the sensation of soft kisses contrasting with the scratch of his scruff along her sensitive skin. When he reaches her neck, he lifts her hands off of his shoulders, pins them over her head.

He finds her pulse point behind her ear, slides his tongue against it. He finally lifts his head, looks down into her eyes. Eagerly, she cranes her neck up to him, tries to capture his lips. But he's in a teasing mood, and stays frustratingly just out of reach.

Finally he gives in, brings his lips to hers and she groans in satisfaction as their tongues meet.

He positions himself, slides into her wanton heat slowly, only breaking the kiss when he's fully inside of her.

"Deb" Dexter groans as they move together. She moans in return.

"Deb."

….

"Deb?"

She wakes startled, squinting through the darkness to make out Dexter sitting on her bed, his hand wrapped around her arm. It was just a dream, nothing more. But Deb pulls her arm from Dexter's grip, brings the sheets with her as she self-consciously sits up.

"Wha-What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to check up on you. You've been acting strange."

Deb climbs out of the other end of the bed, crosses her arms to hide the evidence of her dream and walks out to her kitchen. Dexter follows closely, "Are you ok?"

"Jeez, I'm fine. It's just fucking 2 am and you're breaking into my house and waking me up for no apparent reason." Deb fills a glass of water, takes a long soothing drink.

"I told you, I wanted to see if you're ok. And I thought you were having a nightmare."

Deb pauses, puts her glass down, but keeps her back turned away from Dexter. "What are you talking about?"

"You were…moaning."

Deb is grateful for the darkness as she blushes. "It was nothing."

"It's not nothing." Dexter moves closer, begins to invade her precious space. "What's going on with you?"

Deb turns her head, frowns at him. "Gee I don't know. Turns out my dear brother is a fucking serial killer. What could be going on with me?"

"No. It's not that. It's something else." Dexter tilts his head, studies her momentarily. "It's been something else for awhile."

Deb shifts uncomfortably, backs away from Dexter and faces him. "Sure, now you're the expert."

Dexter frowns. "I'm not very good with emotions, for obvious reasons. But I know you."

Deb exhales forcefully, shakes her head. "What the fuck do you think you know?" Deb defends.

"You want something." He takes a step closer.

"I want my life to go back to normal, but I'm pretty fucking sure that ship has sailed." Deb retreats another step.

"No, that blush today. The way you've been acting around me…"

Dexter moves forward again, tries to close the distance. Deb backs up, moving until her back hits the counter. Like an animal stalking his prey he traps her, drops his hands on either side of her hips, against the counter.

Deb watches as Dexter comes uncomfortably close. Suggestively close. She tries to take a steadying breath, even out her racing heart, but the smell of him, the nearness, just turns her on more.

"I know that look." Dexter continues.

Deb, swallows, averts her eyes, tries to laugh it off. "Dex seriously, you're being fucking weird."

In a sudden movement Dexter pins her hips against the counter with one hand, uses the other hand to grab her chin and force her eyes back to his.

"I know what you want." Dexter's voice is hoarse.

Deb tries to stamp down her desire, ignore the feeling of Dexter's touch as it spreads a wildfire of lust across her body. But his proximity is too much to dismiss. And when she looks into his eyes in the darkness she swears she sees a spark of something.

Still, she's not ready when his lips come crashing down on hers. She gasps, emits a strangled sound when his tongue brushes her lips and slides into her mouth.

Deb's hands which have been lying limp at her sides spring upwards. They rest tentatively against his chest for just a second. Then Deb thinks about what is happening and she shoves him hard, their lips parting with a pop as he staggers, his back connecting with the kitchen island.

They're both panting as they stare at each other. Neither moves as they each try to sort it out.

"You wanted it." Dexter states, without accusation.

"I-I…" Deb's mouth moves, but no sounds comes out. She shakes her head and tries again. "I…Fuck!" She swipes her hands over her forehead, tucks her hair behind her ears. Unable to look at him, she crosses her arms, turns her gaze out the window.

"Deb…" Dexter pushes off from the counter where he leans, takes a tentative step forward.

"NO! Stay the fuck over there." Deb scolds him, glancing at him askew, still unable to look at him.

He stays still, clears his throat. "Talk to me." He commands.

Deb shakes her head, closes her eyes for just a moment. "You ki-…You started that. So why don't you start talking." Deb challenges.

"I only kissed you because of that look on your face. And you kissed me back." Once again Dexter's voice is even, plain.

Deb scowls at him. "Fuck you. I'm not doing this."

She moves to walk past him, out of the kitchen, but Dexter won't let it slide. He grabs onto her wrist, spins her back around, manages to grab her other wrist behind her back. He pulls her roughly against his body as she struggles to free her trapped hands.

"You're going to talk to me." Dexter's voice is gruff. Debra's breath comes in uneven puffs. She tries to convince herself it's only from the struggle of trying to liberate her arms.

She stares him down for a moment, and despite her compromised position Dexter has to admit that the fight in her eyes is rather intimidating, and definitely attractive. But this is Debra, and he can handle her.

"Let go of me." She manages to growl, despite the fact that his proximity, the feel of his hands on her, is making every nerve ending tingle.

"I don't think so." Dexter returns. He presses his hips against hers, allows her to feel his arousal for the first time.

Deb tries to be offended, but can't muster it and moans instead.

Dex takes the opportunity while she's off guard. He kisses her again, one hand holding her wrists hostage as the other cradles her head, keeps their lips together.

Deb fights for only a moment before acquiescing. She leans into his body, twists her tongue against his, tastes him.

Dexter breaks the kiss, threads his fingers through her hair and tugs her head back. He trails his lips along her chin, down the column of her throat, across her collarbone. He pulls away finally, brushes his nose against hers so that she'll open her eyes and look at him.

Gruffly he asks "What were you doing at the church Deb?"

She's thrown off kilter at the sudden change in direction. "I-I told you." Deb's voice is hushed.

"You lied. Tell me the truth." Dexter intones. When she hesitates, he kisses her again. He moves his hand away from her neck, down to her hip. He slips his hand under the waistband of her shorts and down between her legs.

Deb groans loudly at his touch, breaking the kiss as he makes contact with her clit. She moans again as his fingers explore. Her knees buckle and he tightens his grip on her wrists painfully, holding her up.

"Dex…" Deb pleads. She's so close when he stops his movements, pulls his hand away to rest on her belly.

"Tell me." Dexter's eyes drill into hers when they snap open in surprise.

Deb pants, tries to collect her thoughts. "I needed…" She is distracted by Dexter's hand as it moves up her ribcage, under her shirt, until he cups her breast.

"Needed what Deb?" He tugs on her nipple while Deb bites her lip and tries to keep her focus.

"Needed…to tell you…" She rotates her hips against his, trying to skirt around his question and get things moving along again.

Dex smirks at her, pulls her just far enough away so that she can't rub up against him. Debra mewls in return.

"Deb…" Dexter warns her.

"Tell you…" Deb looks into his eyes and fearfully continues. "That I'm in love with you." The words come out in a hasty whisper.

Dexter lets go of her hands, slams her against the island counter and pushes his lips against hers in a demanding kiss. Unprepared, Deb grasps onto his arms and attempts to steady herself.

Deb is still trying to get her bearings when Dex reaches for the hem of her shirt and tugs it off of her. His hands caress her breasts, his kisses bruise with intensity. It's enough to pull Deb from any other considerations and return his passion.

Dexter yanks her shorts off of her, slides his hand back down between her legs and slips two fingers inside of her. Surprised, Deb digs her nails into his biceps causing him to grunt and bite down on her lower lip.

Hurriedly Deb reached down to Dex's jeans, popping open the button and jerking open his fly. Her hands find him hard and ready, freeing his cock from its confines. In a near frantic motion Dex grabs onto her thighs, lifts her up and wraps her legs around his waist. Leaning their weight against the counter, he swiftly slides into her.

Deb gasps as she takes him in, tightening her legs around his body. Dex stills, sheathed in her heat; their eyes connect. Deb brings her hand to his cheek, places a gently kiss on his lips.

"Deb." Dexter murmurs. He kisses her back. A long, lingering kiss that has Deb moving against him, digging her heels into his ass.

He takes the hint, pulls nearly all the way out and slams back into her. He takes her roughly, the monster that he's kept caged around Deb finally taking the reins and driving him into her again and again. Their coupling is wild and like an animal herself, Deb yells upon release. Dexter isn't far behind pushing into her a few more times before tumbling over the edge.

Deb's nude body clings to his clothed one and he feels an urgent desire to press his bare flesh against hers. With unsteady hands he yanks his shirt off, pushes his jeans down. He steps out of them as he carries her to the bedroom and lays them both down.

Exhausted, Deb drifts into sleep before he's settled them. He pulls her body close to his beneath the sheets, tangles their legs together and wraps his arms around her. He watches her sleep, their noses nearly touching. "I love you Deb" he mutters as he slips into slumber.


End file.
